


twenty more minutes until i’m on

by jinchav



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Swearing, This is rly just my thoughts im venting, handwashing, im so tired of it, is it ocd or am i just fucking weird, its 1am and, might delete bc im just, no beta i just wrote and thats it im sorry, this is just a vent, yes this is my thought process when washing my hands or littally soing anything in life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26876053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinchav/pseuds/jinchav
Summary: title is 20 min by lil uzi vert
Relationships: Sakusa Kiyoomi & Komori Motoya (briefly)
Kudos: 14





	twenty more minutes until i’m on

**Author's Note:**

> title is 20 min by lil uzi vert

Sakusa pumps liquid soap into his palm, then nudges the tap with the side of his bent finger. He knows it’s irrational but he doesn’t want to touch the nozzle with the tips of his fingers.

Since that is where the fingerprints are, the unique patterns that identify your person. If there is contact between his prints, to anything, he’s tainted with germs. Better to be 50% dirty than a hundred percent.

A harsh stream of water gushes out of the tap and Sakusa instantly cringes. He nudges the tap again, gently, but now the stream is too narrow. 

He clicks his tongue and his cheeks burn with frustration. He knows he’s wasting water, it’s so stupid, why can’t the water just flow the way he wants? Then he doesn’t have to waste water, doesn’t have to waste time washing his fucking hands—

Ah, there we go. About three centimetres wide, the water pouring out from the filtered tap isn’t too loud and harsh but enough to apply pressure onto his skin.

Sakusa begins to slather the (now) warm soap onto both his palms, in circular motions. He intertwines his fingers and rubs them together, feeling the slightest of friction from over-rubbing. The more it hurts, the cleaner it is. He curls the fingers of one hand to scrape in circular patterns onto his palm, then vice versa. 

He repeats it a couple of times until his hands are red and absolutely drenched in water. 

He walks over to dry his hands, but the towel feels... off. 

It’s mostly dry and smells alright. It’s safe. He changed it yesterday. 

But it. Doesn’t. Feel. Right. 

He throws it into the washing basket and grabs a new towel. It smells of detergent and he hates it. But it’s clean. 

It has to be.

Sakusa grimaces at the sight of his school bag, dirty as it is. But he’s going outside anyway. Everything’s dirty. 

Fuck, even the water that he washed his hands in was probably dirty.

Nothing’s clean. He’s not clean. The world is fucking dirty.

So what if he’s a little dirty.

He slings his school-germed bag over his shoulder and calls out a goodbye to his mother.

“Wait, Kiyoomi,” she shouts in a hurry. “Can you take out the trash?”

Begrudgingly he obeys. His mother is constantly busy. So doing this one chore would make her life easier.

He puts on disposable gloves, hooks his pinky in the handle of the plastic bags and hurls them into the open garbage. His nostrils flare at the stench. 

He takes off his gloves and tosses them in before he realises he has to close the goddamn lid.

Ugh.

Eyeing his gross school shoes, he balances himself on one leg and kicks the lid up, and over. The lid crashes down and blows out another gust of trash smell over Sakusa.

Ughhh. 

He stares at his hands.

He’s going to school.

No need to wash them again.

But the bin

But he’s going to be dirty again

It doesn’t matter 

Fuck it, Sakusa decides. He rinses his hands at the outside tap with only water.

The feeling of cool liquid over his grimy hands left him content. It’s almost like he’s clean. 

By the time he gets to school his hands are raw, flaky and dry. Motoya offers some hand cream (“Bought it two days ago, I swear! It’s safe!”) and Sakusa surprisingly accepts it.

He lets his cousin squeeze out a dollop of cream onto the back of his hand. He turns his other hand over, palm facing up, and spreads the cream around. His palms are clean.

And his hands are... moisturised.

Clean.

It’s good for his skin.

His hand twitches. It’s heavy and oily. The urge to wipe it off is overwhelming.

He mutters an apology to Motoya, who only nods in understanding, as he rushes off to the school bathrooms.

He rinses his hands gently, and dabs at the back of his hands with a disposable paper towel. He still wants the cream there. But like, one percent maybe. 

So he’s clean.

Mostly.

**Author's Note:**

> https://chavsjun.carrd.co/


End file.
